


Rights and Wrongs

by dirtylittlegreasemonkey



Category: Emmerdale
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-20
Updated: 2016-03-20
Packaged: 2018-05-28 00:13:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,904
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6305923
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dirtylittlegreasemonkey/pseuds/dirtylittlegreasemonkey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU. It's 2014, Jackson's accident never happened and Aaron has fallen into a comfortable long term relationship with him, his first and only boyfriend. He's promised to marry him. Until the night before the wedding, on his Stag Night, Aaron has a chance encounter with a handsome stranger, Robert, and that changes everything.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rights and Wrongs

**Author's Note:**

> This is a Robron fic - so if you're not onboard with the idea of Aaron cheating on Jackson with Robert I wouldn't read if I were you!

“Let me guess,” he says, stretching his arm across the width of the bed. A smirk plays on his lips and he shifts his body, pulling himself to sit more upright against the headboard. The bed sheet swerves around his lower half; he’s made a half-hearted attempt to gather it. His left leg is exposed – faint, pale hair, a childhood scar by his knee, a dewy press of sweat on his inner thigh that catches the halogen light from the bedside lamp. “You’ve never done this before?”

“I haven’t,” Aaron says, snappy, indignant. He slumps down into the curved chair opposite the bed, feeling vulnerable in just his underwear.

“What, you’ve never even been tempted?”

Aaron looks up, looks over at him. His lips are parted and pink, pillowy. He’s never seen a mouth like that. Felt one. He sees a flicker of tongue behind Robert’s teeth and shivers. Robert’s drinking him in, his gaze taking a slow and deliberate route over his body.  

“No,” Aaron says, heat rising to his face. “But _you_ make a habit of it, do you?” He can almost feel Robert’s breath on his neck again, the hot dampness of his voice. The way Robert’s desire climbed inside him and became his own. Fragments come back to him, soak into him. The whole movie of their encounter plays back to him in breathless, physical, groaning snippets.

What does he sound like to Robert now? Jealous? Judgemental? Not the one-night fuck he pushed up against the hotel door and stripped, but some clingy boyfriend.

“I’m not the one getting married in the morning, am I?” Robert says. His gaze rubs lazily up and down Aaron’s body. “So…”

Aaron’s been looking at the carpet, looking at his clothes and Robert’s clothes spread out and overlapping as he listened. He’d done everything to stop looking at Robert again. But finally he looks up, regrets the way he feels, like he’s melting back into temptation.

“Last night of freedom,” Robert says, crawling onto all-fours. “You might as well make the most of it.”

*

_Five hours earlier…_

“Has Adam given you any hints?” Aaron said, fiddling with the top button on his shirt. Undone, done-up – he couldn’t decide. The only thing Adam had told him was that he’d need to wear a suit. Of course he’d complained when Adam said that but he agreed, begrudgingly to a smart shirt and jacket, rather than a tie and all that nonsense. He wore the cufflinks Jackson had given him for their third anniversary.

“No and even if he had, d’you really think I’m the type of guy to go and spoil the surprise?” Jackson stood in the doorway, coffee in hand. He didn’t need to change, his mates from the building site were just taking him for a beer and a curry. Aaron was seriously starting to regret letting Adam organise the Stag, especially when his first decision was to hold it on the night before the wedding.

“Worth a try,” Aaron said.

“He did reassure me no strippers.”

“Shame,” Aaron said, smirking back over his shoulder and then returning to the mirror. He smoothed down the lapels of his blue suit. “Does it look alright?”

“I’ll save the gushing for tomorrow,” Jackson said and came forward to squeeze his shoulder. “Did you manage to square tonight with Paddy?”

“Yeah,” Aaron said. “I’m gonna drop my bag there in a minute and then meet Adam and the others in the pub.”

“Give us a shout before you head to Paddy’s. I want one last kiss as a free man before I’m tied to you forever.”

Jackson disappeared out of the room and went back downstairs. Aaron stared at himself in the mirror. Buttoned, unbuttoned, buttoned, unbuttoned. Neither felt right. He exhaled, his gaze catching on the photograph of him and Jackson on top of the chest of drawers. They looked young. It felt like such a long time ago.

*

“Can I leave this with you?” Aaron said, stood outside Paddy’s. The air was damp with a fine mist of rain. He lifted the sports bag up to show him. Paddy had agreed to let him stay after the Stag Night. He didn’t really believe in all those traditions and old wives tales about weddings, but Jackson had wanted them to spend the night apart because “that’s what people did” so he’d gone along with it.

“Yeah, of course. Of course,” Paddy said, taking the bag from him. He took a step back, opening up the hallway behind him. “Are you coming in?”

“No, I’m just about to meet Adam at the pub.”

“Looking like that?”

“Why, what’s wrong with it?”

“Nothing! Nothing!” Paddy said. “You just look really smart that’s all. I thought I’d got the day wrong and you were due down the aisle.”

“Funny,” Aaron said, although he didn’t smile. He’d started to feel this heavy humidity in his skull every time he thought ahead to tomorrow.

“Is everything alright though? You look a bit sort of….”

Aaron tilted his head left and right. “A bit sort of what?”

“Spaced out. Peaky. You’re not getting ill, are you?”

“Paddy, I’m fine. Will you stop fussing over me?”

“I’m not!” he said, his voice growing high like the sound of someone stepping on a dog’s squeaky-toy. Then he leaned in closer to Aaron, the door closing a little. “But you know nerves are perfectly normal, don’t you? Cold feet. Everyone gets it. I got it when I was going to marry Rhona, she practically had to drag-”

“Paddy!” Aaron said, interrupting. “I’m not nervous. I’m fine. I’m going to the pub.”

He walked away, hearing the door click behind Paddy and then stood by the entrance to the pub, staring back down Main Street towards the cottage he rented with Jackson. He’d never thought of himself at twenty-three like this. Maybe what Paddy said was right – nerves were normal. Getting married was a big deal, it wouldn’t be natural if he didn’t have some doubts.

 

*

 

“Look, it was a package deal, alright.”

Adam’s grand Stag Night plan was becoming less appealing by the minute. He didn’t want to go to a casino – he’d have been happy with a meal and a few pints. But Adam had tried explaining about this great deal he’d wangled. He’d paid upfront to this dodgy bloke Ross knew and apparently had been assured that they could get a three-course meal at a four star hotel followed by three free games of their choice at the adjoining casino, all for a nice sum of thirty quid each. But when they’d arrived at the hotel the man at the desk had eyed them with suspicion and flitted between colleagues to get some sort of answer for them. Apparently all their restaurant tables were booked and they weren’t sure where this supposed ‘deal’ had come from. On the plus side, the manager had said, their tickets did entitle them to use of the casino and with it being a special occasion, he would throw in a bottle of champagne for them.

In the end they settled for bar food in the hotel, huddled around a low table. Aaron was quite happy with that – chips and a pint and any other overpriced finger food they could order. They got a few odd looks from other hotel guests – a group of twenty-something rowdy lads in suits doing Sambuca shots. Most of the guests were older, greyer, the dripping in wealth sort – arm in arm. There was a blond man at the bar for a short while, looking as out of place as they were, drinking alone and dressed in a maroon suit but when the man looked over and made eye contact, Aaron’s gaze snapped away as if he’d been caught stealing. When he looked over again in a little while, the blond man had gone.  

“Right mate,” Adam said as they stepped into the main casino hall. “Let’s get this party started!”

“I thought that was what the Sambuca was about,” Aaron said, letting himself be tugged into the room. He’d wished in a way that they could have just done something the two of them or gone on some sad lads’ night out with Marlon and Paddy but instead here he was stuck with Adam’s half-brothers making a weak attempt to enjoy himself.

They divided up. Slot machines, poker, Blackjack, Roulette. Aaron headed to the bar and bought Finn a drink just to stop him following him around. “Can’t you go and bore someone else?” he said. “It’s meant to be my Stag Night.” Finn sulked off and for a minute he felt a bit guilty until Pete plonked down next to him.

“That’s my first tenner gone,” he said, pointing over to the slot machines. He turned his head, glancing Aaron up and down. “Your money gone already, has it?”

“No,” Aaron said, wiping the beer remnants across the back of his hand. “Not even played yet. Why?”

“No reason,” Pete said. “You just don’t look very happy, that’s all.”

“It’s boring,” Aaron said. “I’m bored.”

“Hey, it’s your Stag Night – you’re meant to be enjoying yourself.”

Aaron raised his pint. “I’m trying,” he said. He looked across to the poker table where he saw Ross cosying up to a beautiful woman. He had his hand on her arm and his eyes on her cards. He wondered whether anyone would clock his tactics, but all the seated players were focused on their own cards, heads down. There were another two seated slightly closer, an older businessman, his brow heavy and confused, asking questions to a man next to him. That had to be against the rules, surely. It was only as he looked between them that Aaron realised that the man advising the businessman was the same guy he’d seen in the bar. The tall blond man with a jaw that flexed in concentration. He watched the man lay down his cards with a serious determination on his face, his long fingers sliding the cards onto the table. There was a smugness to him too, the way his back straightened and the way his eyes creased as a smile began. He flicked another chip onto the table and his tongue eased between his teeth when his smile widened. Aaron couldn’t take his eyes off the man’s smile.

Pete nudged him and he realised he’d been asked a question. Pete laughed when Aaron blinked at him, clueless.

“You’re on another planet, mate.” Pete clapped him on the back. “How are you feeling about tomorrow?”

“Good, yeah. Excited,” Aaron said. He thought about Jackson and how he had been that morning, talking too fast and working himself up into a frenzy trying to make some rushed last minute phone calls. Aaron hadn’t had to organise very much at all. He’d sorted a buffet with Victoria and sweet talked her until she lowered her costings and that was pretty much all there was to it. All he had to do was turn up and say his bit. Then the whole thing would be done and they could go back to living life as normal without everyone being obsessed with weddings. Excited? Was he excited? It wasn’t really a blokey thing, was it? To be excited about getting married? Of course he wanted to and he wanted to make Jackson happy, so he hoped it would be a good day – but what difference was a bit of paper going to make?

 

*

 

He was on a winning streak. Fifty quid up and the money making the evening fly by. He felt a fire in his luck that he hadn’t felt since he was a teenager running from the police. He lost sight of the others he’d been so engrossed in his games. After a while he spotted a gap in the table at the roulette wheel and headed over with a new fist of chips. Just as he was about to step into the space, he collided with the man in the maroon suit. They both took a step back and Aaron felt the man’s eyes drag up and down over him. Heat prickled through him so fast he couldn’t be sure where he felt it. Throat, chest, stomach, legs, face.

The man nodded into the space. “Go ahead,” he said.

Aaron pushed his way closer feeling his throat tighten a little. The man was still looking at him, passing behind the others at the table and waiting for someone to leave so he could step in. Once a game had finished, a couple stepped away and the man took their place, giving Aaron a small smile. It was as if they had a connection now, a thin pulse between them, even though Aaron wasn’t sure what that was.

He put twenty quid on black first and watched the blond man take a slower more thoughtful approach, scattering chips between various numbers on the table. Aaron put money on black simply because it felt right and he knew the odds, there wasn’t much thought to it.

“No more bets,” the croupier called.

The wheel span and the ball landed on nine, red and Aaron watched his chips disappear. The man opposite, shook away a smile, lowering his green eyes and basked in his win. A few more left the table and the man’s eyes met Aaron’s.

“Hard luck,” he said.

“It’s just beginners luck,” Aaron said, nodding at the man’s win.

“Let’s see, shall we?” His smile was beaming again, white teeth and full, pink lips.

Aaron felt the fire again and flicked a chip in his hand. He chewed on the side of his lip. The blond man leant on the table and studied the numbers. The older businessman he was with earlier tapped him on the shoulder.

“Robert,” - he said – “I’m going to call a taxi. I think the Capult Group have been wooed enough, don’t you?”

The blond man, Robert, waved the older man off. “Alright,” he said. “I’m going to stick around for a bit. I’m not quitting while my luck’s in.”

“As you wish,” the man said. “See you, Monday. Don’t be late.”

Aaron placed a ten quid chip on evens and felt Robert’s eyes on him, studying him closely. He heard him draw in a breath. “Risky,” he said with a playful smirk as he slide a chip into the middle of the table, placing it between a cluster of twenties on the board.

“No more bets, gentlemen, please. No more bets.”

Aaron skimmed a glance around the table, there were only four of them now and Robert was storming the lot. Win after win. He seemed to get a little thrill every time the number was announced, but he was quiet with it. Not boastful, just stood taller. Smug yes, but serious too. He had these heavy lines on his brow and his lips drawn close together.

Aaron was considering giving up when he won the next round and saw Robert’s head tilt to the side. Buzzed with a win, Aaron bet more, chest broader with a rush of confidence. He was up on his money again and his bets grew. Twenty, fifty. His heart pulsed every time he placed down a chip and more when this cocky stranger locked eyes with him across the table.

“Last call for bets. Last call.”

Aaron toyed between a twenty and his last fifty, absentmindedly running his tongue across his lip. The adrenaline of the wins were making him feel indestructible. Fifty was a lot, he knew what he should do – what the sensible thing to do was. He was a few hours away from being a grown up, a married man.

“Live a little,” Robert said across the table. His voice was low, quiet enough so that it was meant for Aaron alone. “What are you so afraid of?”

Aaron played the fifty on red and closed his eyes, counted to ten.

Eighteen. Evens. Red.

Aaron released a gasp of air and slammed his hand down on the table with excitement. His chest ached with the violent thud of his heart. The rush drove through him at breakneck speed and he heard himself hiss a _Yes!_

“Congratulations,” Robert said, as his loss was recognised by the croupier sliding his chips away. Robert had lost hundreds, but the warmth was still there in his voice, even as he licked his dry lips.

“Thanks,” Aaron said, half-mumbled.

“Of course,” Robert said, running the tip of his finger along the edge of a chip. “That was beginner’s luck.”

“And yours has run out mate, by the looks of it.” Aaron shrugged cockily at him.

Robert raised a fifty chip at him, placing it on a single number, but his eyes never left Aaron’s. They were serious eyes, a deep, dangerous green.

“You’re just throwing it away,” Aaron said.

“You’re not afraid of a little competition, are you?” The green sparkled. A challenge. A dare.

“I’m not the one losing here.”

“No,” Robert said, thrusting his hands into his pockets and half tilting his hips forward. “You’re just playing it safe.”

There were hairs rising on the back of Aaron’s neck and he ignored the thoughts in his head that were telling him not to do it and swallowed, placing all his remaining chips on black. About a hundred and twenty quid.

For those fragile few seconds it was as if all the sound in the casino had spiralled down a plug and all Aaron could hear was silence and a thick drum of blood in his head. He could feel his own raspy and uncertain breaths, a deep throbbing sickness in his gut, the sight of the roulette wheel spinning and spinning and the man opposite, tall and knowing, his jaw set and his eyes firmly on Aaron as if whatever number the ball lands on  didn’t matter.

Thirty-five. Black. That was all he needed to know. It was as if the floor hit the back of his skull and the room burst again with life – noise, colour, lights. Aaron burnt hot and the adrenaline blurred his vision so much that he had to look down and focus on his hands. He opened the top button on his shirt and then leant forward, dragging his winning chips closer and called to the croupier, asking him to change them into fifties and hundreds.

“Nicely done,” Robert said. “What’s next? All or nothing?”

Aaron smiled, taking his winnings. “Nah. My luck’s gotta run out sometime.” He looked up at him and backed away from the table slightly. “Like yours did about three spins back.” He nodded at Robert, knowing he’d just risked a hell of a lot of money and managed to get away with it and left the table, breathless, heading for a slot machine, a slightly less addictive game knowing that Robert’s eyes were on him the whole time.

*

Adam and the lads badgered him into buying a round with his new found fortune and then they scattered again. Ross had coped off, Finn had gone for a quiet one in the hotel bar and Pete and Adam had befriended some wealthy Germans who gave them poker tips. Aaron was alone at a slot machine when he felt a figure draw up beside him.

“You know, as soon as you left the table, I started winning again. Three in a row.”

Robert propped himself up against a free slot machine. He was lean, brimming with confidence, over familiarity. Aaron’s gaze skimmed over him and then back again to the machine. He wanted to keep looking but he knew he shouldn’t. He didn’t need to anyway, he could already picture Robert’s face, the angular line of his jaw. His eyes.

“What am I, your unlucky charm?”

“That’s one explanation, I suppose,” Robert said. He paused and the machine chirped and whirred in the silence between them. “You want a beer? Loser buys the winner a pint? Something like that.”

“You been buying a lot of pints tonight?”

“It’s an exclusive offer.”

Aaron swallowed, felt his eyes drift in the direction of Robert’s slightly parted lips. He felt a low, murmuring pull in his chest. He could smell Robert’s aftershave in the close air between them. Dark and warm and rich. Aaron shivered. It was as if fingers of electricity had crawled out from his spine.

“I…My mates are here. I better get back to them. They’ll think I’ve blown all my money,” Aaron said, wittering nervously.

Robert scanned the room and then leaned in again. “They don’t look like they’ve sent the search party out just yet.”

“Yeah…well, er they will. It’s my Stag Night so I’m expected to be…with them.”

It was like the words Stag Night stung, pushed a pin into the conversation. Robert straightened up, pulled away like cold air had rushed between them.

“Double congratulations, then,” he said and Aaron felt the presence of his large hand on the top of his arm, tapping him. It couldn’t have last more than half a second but Aaron felt the print of his fingers long after he’d removed them. “When’s the big day?”

“Tomorrow actually.”

Robert’s eyebrows raised and his hands slipped distractingly back into his pockets. “Last hours of a free man,” he said and Aaron could feel something in Robert’s eyes making his insides liquid. He could have a drink with him, couldn’t he?

The decision was taken out of his hands then, because Robert smiled fleetingly and looked over his head to another game that was occurring elsewhere.

“It was nice to meet you….”

“Aaron.”

“Aaron.” It sounded new, warm, electric rolled from Robert’s tongue. Then he strode away, leaving Aaron to piece together words which he might have had in another time. Another place. Another universe.

*

His next four bets were an unmitigated disaster. All the gains he’d made on the roulette table were for nothing. He was down to his last fifty quid. Aaron felt too frustrated to drink anymore, even more frustrated that he was trying to keep a clear head for the morning, and he just felt like calling it a night and going home. To make matters worse he’d lost sight of the other lads. He guessed they might have gone to watch footie in the bar but he couldn’t see them anywhere. He found himself wandering around the casino hall, hovering round the roulette wheel in the search for – no – just in the search for some company. There were old guys in suits and girls in sparkling dresses, but no one else. No one he recognised.

He lifted out his phone, considering calling a taxi home and found a text from his mum.

_Hope UR having fun! I’m so proud of U and how much Uve grown. ROLL ON 2MRW! XXX_

He stared at the text for a good minute and then deleted it. His home screen flashed a photo of him and Jackson from a year and a half ago. Aaron dragged a hand across his face and pushed his phone away. How had things progressed so fast? It wasn’t five minutes ago he was coming out in a court room full of people, kissing a guy, sleeping with a guy – Jackson – for the very first time. Everything had been great, ups and downs yeah but great all the same. Jackson had been good and patient and understanding and things had just continued, trundled on for a few years and now here they were, getting married.

And that was it, was it? For the rest of his life. His first boyfriend, his only boyfriend. His husband. There had been a guy – in a bar – once or twice who’d caught his eye, who’d given his body a little shiver, but that was after a row, when he’d wanted to hurt Jackson, when he’d been looking, trying. But what if he didn’t have to look, or try? What if something just happened inside? What if he felt something? A pull, a curiosity. What if he wasn’t meant to tie himself down at twenty-two years old? He’d never seen the world, he’d never done anything, he’d never known anything different. He didn’t know what another man’s mouth felt like, or hands felt like, or body felt like. What if there was more? What if there was better?

*

He called for a cab and then headed to the toilets before leaving. Aaron stood at the sink, palms pressed into the white ceramic and letting the water gush down the plug hole. He didn’t register the bathroom door open until there was someone standing near him, a familiar spiced aftershave lingering in the air.

His throat constricted and he pulled himself upright, forcing a tight teeth-stuck smile at Robert.

“Hello again,” he said. “People will talk.” His arm stretched and he leaned on the sink beside Aaron. 

“I’m just about to head home,” Aaron said, although his body didn’t move anywhere. He could feel the brush of Robert’s sleeve against his every now and then like a small graze.

“Already?”

“Luck’s run out,” Aaron said with a shrug. He could barely meet Robert’s gaze.

“Pity,” Robert said, his chest expanding with a large intake of breath. He moved closer. “I was thinking about another game. High risk.”

Blood rushed. He felt heat as far as in the tight curl of his toes. “I’m out of money.”

“Okay,” Robert said and his eyes fixed on Aaron’s mouth as he dipped his hand inside his jacket to retrieve something. There was a white card in his hand and he turned it over and then over again. “Maybe next time you’re thinking about heading to a casino, you might want some tips. Or if you fancy a game sometime…”

Aaron held still as Robert slid the card into his top pocket and then just as wordlessly as Robert had appeared, he slipped away again, leaving the soft click of the door behind him. Aaron glanced at himself in the mirror, the pink of his face. He exhaled and splashed water on his neck and then felt the rectangle of card in his pocket. It seemed heavier than it should for a business card. He imagine what it looked like, the pattern, the font, what kind of high flying job this Robert would have. He could picture the sort – offices in London, New York, Tokyo. With his finger and thumb he fished in his pocket and pinched it out. It was plastic, white plastic with a black strip across it. Like a credit card. It wasn’t a business card at all. In a silver font it had a room number printed on it and the name of a hotel – _Forster Hall_ – the same hotel adjoined to the casino.

*

He took the lift. Didn’t know what he was thinking. He reached the top floor and just stood in the doorway of the lift blocking the sensor so that the doors wouldn’t close. He couldn’t step back and he couldn’t step forward out into the corridor. Downstairs he’d thought about handing the keycard in at reception, saying he’d found it and just walking away, leaving it at that. He even had a taxi waiting. He let the cab firm leave a series of missed calls on his mobile while he stepped out into the corridor of the Forster Hall hotel, staring at the signs pointing him in the direction of Rooms 301 to 310, the deluxe suites.

He walked the corridor, the numbers counting up and with it the increase of his heart rate. He focused on the even numbers and thought of everything. He thought of his friends he’d lost sight of downstairs, he thought of his mum, Paddy, he thought of Jackson. He thought of the world he was yet to see, a life he’d barely lived. He thought about Robert, about the thrill and the fire thriving inside him like nothing he’d ever felt before. He thought about knocking on the door of Room 310 and just handing him back his key. He felt powerless, everything out of his own control. He thought about doubts and regrets and mistakes and then he didn’t knock at all, he pushed the keycard into the lock and waited for it to turn green.

The door opened for him, Robert pulled it aside and then in one fluid motion, dragged him into the room, both hands around his face and launched his mouth against Aaron’s. Their bodies stumbled in the impact and span in a half circle until Aaron’s spine hit the wall, grunt of pain and relief pulled straight from his mouth into Robert’s, mid-gasp. He heard the door slam, the result of a swift kick by Robert and then the warm dexterity of his fingers beginning to unbutton his shirt. Robert gave up after two buttons and sculpted his hands down Aaron’s sides, moulding their bodies together until the heat of them became one and Aaron could feel Robert’s cock hard against him. It was only once Aaron’s hands reached out down Robert’s shoulders that he realised his white shirt was already open and he tore it impatiently from Robert’s body.

Robert made slight grunting breaths against him, their air meeting in the middle, in a clash of strained panting. His hot mouth was forceful, taking charge of a kiss that seemed to last a lifetime. It was like no kiss that Aaron had ever had. He could feel himself almost whine in resistance, flush with this new and toxic pleasure, so rough and raw that he didn’t know what to do with himself. His body buckled and Robert’s tongue edged against his, fingers returning back up to finish undressing him. He felt alive and like he wanted to die all at once. Robert’s fingers were an electric pulse across his nipples and then downward downward to the pressing intensity of his dick. There was an unspoken moment where Aaron let his hands go loose on Robert’s torso and fumbled with his own zip and fly, while Robert’s mouth latched onto his neck, pushing him closer to insanity.

Had anyone ever driven right to the core of him before, like this? It was stupid to even wonder. No they hadn’t. There had only been Jackson. A brief flirtation with someone else. Teenage unrequited feelings. His own left hand. And no one had come close to this. It was a half-life.

Aaron bit into his own bottom lip, hissing. There could have been blood if he’d bit down harder. Robert’s blond hair rubbed against his face, smelling of expensive shampoo and velvety cologne and Aaron threw his head back against the wall, going blind for a fraction of a second, blood and black spinning behind his eyes. Robert pushed up against him, thigh thrusting between his legs and grinding an arrogant friction against Aaron’s cock.

Robert’s trousers came off easily, even with Aaron’s eyes shut and mouth open, head drooped to the side. He couldn’t even make sense of the noises coming out of him, just that they didn’t sound like they belonged to him at all.

“Aaron, Aaron…” Robert’s mouth separated from his throat and purred darkly in his ear. He took a step backwards, making Aaron feel like he was going to fall over, like he’d given Robert the ownership of every nerve ending. Aaron staggered forward, hungering for Robert’s mouth again, but saw Robert’s eyes darken, his lips slide into something serious and heated. Robert pulled his boxer shorts down in one smooth, proud motion, revealing the length of his solid cock.

With his eyes glittering with the smuggest of grins, Robert eyed the constricted swallow in Aaron’s throat, the way he tried to keep his desire locked and hidden. Impossible. Robert took Aaron’s hand and curled it around him, eyelids fluttering closed and released a long, earthy shudder. Aaron’s thumb circled the head, unnerved by Robert’s violent pulse and the way his panting seemed to shred their way through him.

Robert’s palm pressed against the wall to steady himself and then he opened his eyes, drilling straight into Aaron’s gaze. He slid his fingertips under the waistband of Aaron’s underwear and then wormed right inside. “My turn now,” he said, lost in a cycle of erratic breaths.

They stood in the hallway of the hotel suite, pressed up against the wall by the wardrobe, then opposite the mirror, then against the door, helplessly pawing at each other. Skin against skin and legs grappling and sliding, mouths kissing and then not – panting and swearing – licking and biting. Hands and fingers daring each other to come but resisting all the same and then Robert laced his hands around Aaron’s waist and sunk his mouth to his ear.

“Who goes first?” he said, breathing a dirty, weakening laugh right into him. “I need you. I need to fuck you.” He pushed his groin against Aaron’s and groaned. “But I’ll let you fuck me if you ask me nicely.”

Aaron shuddered as Robert’s index finger dipped below his spine and walked down the curve of his backside. He felt himself rubbing, scratching his stubble against the side of Robert’s face as some sort of revenge.

“I’m not asking nicely,” Aaron said, scoffing. He turned his head and kissed Robert full on the mouth, charged and unrelenting. He wanted the kiss to feel like he felt. Changed. Unstoppable. When they broke, their lips smacked apart. “Fuck me first,” Aaron said, suddenly unafraid, gazing at Robert’s red and parted lips.

It was only when he was on the bed, propped up on his arms, waiting at Robert’s mercy for him to bring condoms and lube to the bed, that Aaron realised how big the hotel room was. It had all been a blur of heat and kissing when he entered the room but now he saw it before him, the size of a small open-plan flat. Only it was much fancier than any flats he’d looked at. Jackson had let him have a nose around one he was working on in the outskirts of Hotten and they’d joked that maybe they could afford something similar after a lottery win. He didn’t want to buy a flat with him. He didn’t want to share bills and get a mortgage. He didn’t want his life to be the same from now until he died. And really, without wanting to even contemplate the realisation: he didn’t even want to get married.

Aaron rose to his knees, launching himself into Robert’s grasp when the kissing started again. All Robert had done was walk towards the bed, tongue sliding over his bottom lip, flashing Aaron the proof that he had in his hand what they needed – and Aaron was on him again, kisses gasped against his mouth. He pulled Robert down by the back of his next until they were both horizontal on the bed.

He wanted to put his mouth on him. He wanted to do everything to him. He wanted Robert to do everything to him.

He didn’t have time for any panic to arise, for any comparisons to be made. He didn’t have the experience to analyse what kind of man Robert was in bed, or what Robert might think of him. He’d spent years pleasing and being pleased by the same man but there he was in a hotel room with a man he barely knew, running his hands greedily over his pale and freckled chest, spread and aching to be touched by him. Robert ran his tongue along a muscle of Aaron’s neck, as he ground his pelvis against him, treating his name like this indulgent sin on his lips. Aaron scratched the tips of his fingernails through Robert’s scalp and exhaled shakily through his mouth, he’d been watching, waiting, praying Robert was going to fuck him now.

He’d already felt sweat prickle on his lower back. Robert had done it all. Spoilt him, played him, teased him. Smiling the whole time. Touching himself. Sucking on one of his own fingers and trailing it down the length of Aaron’s cock. Giving his arse a smack and dragging his mouth there as if he was going to do the longed for thing and lick him open. But he didn’t.

‘You prick,’ Aaron had hissed. And then hissed even more when Robert lubed his fingers and rubbed them against his entrance. Then inside. Faster and sweeter and more forceful than anyone else had dared be. You can only fight fire with fire.

Then it happened. Finally. Slowly. Gradually. Aaron thought he might explode from it. Robert had one of his arms pinned out above him but the pain became white noise almost immediately. His whole body yearned, soared. Robert wasn’t just inside him, he was free falling with him. He _was_ him. They’d become this one, lusting body. Skin and heat and wet, noisy sounds. Robert was a gibberish talker, a moaner, saying things in Aaron’s ear that the pleasure tore all meaning from. Aaron became a guiltless grunting stranger to himself. Even if he had the sense, he couldn’t recognise himself. His head thrashed back, ripples of hot excitement transforming him and he found his body meeting with Robert’s swerving in this frenzied, foreign rhythm.

Robert kissed any part of Aaron’s skin that he could get his mouth near. When his vision cleared, Aaron felt his stomach flip at the sight of this man, his long lean body devoted to fucking him, taking pleasure from him. Aaron had never felt so wanted, so attractive. Robert wasn’t shy in telling him, between fucks and moans. When their eyes locked, when Aaron was close, when everything around him seemed to melt, he held Robert’s gaze with an intensity that startled them both. He didn’t have chance to think about what it meant. The connection, the feeling in his chest. He skimmed his hand down Robert’s side and angling his spine, choking out the words gruffly, with all the restraint he had not to orgasm himself: “You gonna come then, or what?”

*

“Don’t go all cold on me now,” Robert says, knelt pouting and naked on the edge of the bed. He has a smattering of freckles and moles on his inner thighs, smooth and faintly golden hair. Aaron wonders if he tastes golden there. He’s a mess of contradictions. Soft and boyish, smiling and smooth. Rough and dirty, masculine and serious. His voice isn’t as dark and flirtatious as it was a moment ago.

“Sorry,” Aaron says, rubbing a hand across his face. His head is full of uncomfortable loathing and guilty thoughts that he wants to run from. Jackson is probably sitting wondering if Aaron is having a good time. He’s probably thinking about their vows, the guests, the future. He’s too good, too serious, too nice for doubts. Surely they both should have realised he’d be the one to mess things up?

“If it’s any consolation,” - Robert says sitting back and resting his palms on his thighs – “you won’t be the first guy to cheat on the night before his wedding.”

Aaron grimaces. “Thanks.”

“No, I mean it,” Robert says, trying to cover himself up as if Aaron might take him more seriously. “What’s done is done. No regrets.”

“That’s your motto, is it?” Aaron says sharply, looking up at him and resenting himself for feeling so attracted to him. His body still thrums, his dick is still hard and wanting.

“No,” he says. “But you can’t live dwelling on the mistakes you’ve made.”

“I’ve just cheated on the man I’m meant to love, alright? On the night before I marry him. That’s a bit more than a mistake -”

“Okay,” Robert says. “Well if you’re going to start feeling sorry for yourself…”

“Spare me the life advice,” Aaron says, stabbing back. Who is this guy anyway, this suave, rich know-it-all. He probably goes to bed with a different guy every night, never looks back. They’re nothing alike, Robert knows nothing about him.

Robert looks away, not smug at all anymore. His brow lowers forming heavy creases and his lids half-close, like he’s not even in the room at all. “You know, I spent nearly ten years going over and over the regrets in my life. My family, my brother. I had to leave everything behind, the village where I grew up in. Everyone, everyone I loved. And you know what? Yeah if I could have turned back the clock and changed things then I would. But I couldn’t. I can’t. And if I spend every waking, lonely minute going over it then all I’d have left is…”

He doesn’t finish the sentence but Aaron knows what he means how he feels. When their eyes meet again, it’s soft and thoughtful. Robert’s eyes are green, like sunlight on the surface of the sea. Aaron moves to sit beside him on the king-sized bed. The bed’s big enough so that they’re still sat apart.

“Look,” Robert says, gently, his hands open. “Whatever you’ve done tonight…it didn’t mean anything really. You’re lucky. You’ve got someone out there who loves you.”

Aaron sits staring at his own hands for a minute. Tomorrow there will be a ring on his finger. A commitment he isn’t ready for. A man he doesn’t love enough. Has he known all along? Has he always lived in fear? Because Jackson was the first. He made him brave and strong and he owed him that, didn’t he? He owed him love and a future, he owed him everything. This wasn’t about being selfish; it didn’t matter what he wanted. Jackson had to come first, because that was the right thing to do. The wrong thing to do would be to kid himself that there was more out there for him, that life could be scary and exciting all at once. That he could have love and passion together at once. The wrong thing to do would be to look at Robert and see something more. To feel something out there was waiting for him. The wrong thing to do would be to look for something that he knows could destroy everything.

He could live without knowing what love could do. How love could hurt. He could be happy as he is.

Aaron leans into Robert, heart thumping, hurting, his bottom lip finding Robert’s and placing a kiss there. He holds his forehead pressed against Robert’s and knows now what he feels isn’t regret, it’s the guilt from realising that his loneliness has lifted. That Robert made him feel something louder and brighter and more real than he had felt in a long time.  

Robert moves his head away a little and smirks sheepishly. “Sorry, I don’t know where that little speech came from.”

“It’s alright,” Aaron says and finds his hand lingering on Robert’s shoulder.

“Don’t regret it too much, will you?” he says, keeping his voice light. His smile brightens, creases his eyes. “You made my night a little less lonely.”

“I bet you say that to all your one night stands.” Aaron raises his eyebrows, teasing.

Robert looks away and Aaron’s sure he shakes his head. He closes the gap between them again, this time dragging Robert into a deeper kiss, one that pulls at his chest and doesn’t let up. This isn’t the kiss he’d pursue if he meant this to be a mistake, a regret. He shows Robert he’s serious. His intentions. He stands and removes his underwear, pushing Robert down onto the bed and straddling him.  

Golden. He tastes golden.

No regrets.

*

He doesn’t mean to, but he falls asleep in Robert’s arms. His sleepy touch, his warm and giggly voice. He was like a lethargic teenager, smirking about Aaron’s oral sex skills. Aaron chest-puffed and knowing. Boastful. He could be smug instead. They drifted between dreams, bodies spread and splayed. Tired suggestions of foreplay and kisses that ended lazily.

He wakes and six in the morning and dresses. He puts the cufflinks from Jackson in his pocket. It feels like an admission in itself. It’s over; he just has to find the words.

“You weren’t going to say goodbye?”

He smirks, hearing Robert’s sleepy teasing voice behind him and turns around to face him.

“Sorry,” Robert says, raising his palms. “I forgot you have a wedding to get to.”

“Don’t.”

“Do you want a lift?”

Aaron looks at him pointedly.

“Don’t worry, I’m not planning on crashing the wedding.”

“You’re hilarious,” Aaron says, feeling far from ready to joke about it. He tucks his shirt into his trousers and runs his fingers through his softened, wavy hair, purposely not looking at Robert. “I’m not gonna go.”

“You’re going to jilt him?!”

“I’m going to tell him I can’t.”

“Shit,” Robert says.

“And it’s not for you,” Aaron says, the words falling out in a rush. “I’m not delusional.”

Robert lifts his head, his face still and unreadable. “The offer of a lift still stands.”

“It’s fine, I’ll get a cab.”

Robert whips the cover back, stretching his way out of bed. Aaron promises himself he won’t look, but he can see Robert in the mirror’s reflection, the muscles in his back, the thickness of his thighs.

“Where are you from anyway?” Robert asks, heading to the bathroom.

“Oh, it’s just some little village in the middle of nowhere. A loada farms,” Aaron says calling after him. “Emmerdale.”

“Emmerdale?”

Aaron sees sight of Robert pause for a moment in the doorway of the bathroom. His voice sounded further away when he spoke.

“You lived round there all your life?” he asks.

Aaron turns around to speak to him and watches him falter a little, lean against the doorway, fix his expression. There’s something odd about him. Like getting out of bed has made his blood rush.

“Loads of my family live there. It’s like Dingle breeding ground.”

“Dingle?” His eyes widen.

“Yeah, why?”

He shakes the name off. “Bit of a weird name, that’s all.”

“Well, it’s not my name. Although I am, technically, one of them.”

“Right.” He looks paler. “I’m gonna grab a shower. I’ll only be a minute.”

Aaron can’t shift the feeling that there was something strange about Robert then, like he suddenly started panicking that Aaron was still there. He probably kicked his shags out after he’d had enough of them. Aaron stands there for a minute or two and then decides to call the cab after all. There are cards on the table, amongst the hotel brochures and as he looks for the number of a cab, another card catches his eye. A business card for an agricultural company. A name. Robert Sugden.

Robert Sugden.

Vic’s brother. Andy’s brother. How many other Sugdens forced to leave their village homes were there?

Aaron burns hot all over, his throat tightening. He hears the sound of the shower pause and Robert appears in the doorway, from the torso up, wet and his hair slicked back.

“I was thinking,” he says, a smile creeping onto his face. “As we’re both learning from our mistakes, that I might build a few bridges myself.”

“What do you mean?” Aaron says, dropping the business card as if it was hot. He sounds like he’s stammering. Robert doesn’t notice.

His smile widens. “I think I might take a trip home.”

 

 

 


End file.
